


Just Another Path

by LadyAJ_13



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 15:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: Its the worst possible news. The doctor's voice is soft, but there's no nice way to hear your daughter – your four year old daughter – doesn't have long left.“Can we take her home? I would rather-” her voice breaks- “she be at home.”





	Just Another Path

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit darker than what I usually write, but I think a sort of happy ending? I don't know, a show where 90% of the characters are already dead makes it difficult to judge...
> 
> Title from the Tolkein quote: "Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it."

Its the worst possible news.

“I'm very sorry.” The doctor's voice is soft, but there's no nice way to hear your daughter – your four year old daughter – doesn't have long left. “I know you won't be able to make decisions right now, but I must ask that you come back in soon.” She lays a range of leaflets on the table. “Lily can stay in the hospital but there are a number of hospice options where she would be more comfortable-”

“Can we take her home?” Mike stares at Alison; her eyes are shining, but she looks so together. Her voice strong. The doctor looks taken aback.

“She will need substantial care, towards the end-”

“We work from home. I would rather-” her voice breaks- “she be at home.”

The doctor nods, and puts away her pamphlets. “I'm sure that can be arranged.”

–

He knows they're probably here, but for the first time since finding out about the ghosts, Mike really doesn't care. He walks with his head down, silent.

“It must be bad news,” says Fanny. Thomas rests a hand on Kitty's shoulder, as she muffles her sobs.

“Alison?” ventures the Captain.

She just shakes her head, but Lily is in her arms, and if she's here rather than at the hospital then it can't be that-

Except the little girl is staring at them all, eyes wide. She's never been able to see them before.

–

When the time comes, a wail that would silence Fanny rings through the house. They all jump, knowing, just knowing, what that means, and run to where Alison lies, slumped across the bed. They crash into each other in the doorway, no one quite willing to disturb the room, and Mike runs through them all.

“Hello,” says Lily. “I've seen you here before. Who are you? And why are you dressed all funny?”

They look at each other.

“She stayed,” says Alison, face drawn and white with shock, streaked with tears. Mike peers around, like he used to.

“I can't see her.”

–

It takes some adjustment.

Lily can't understand why she can't pick up her teddy, and screams for her mother. Alison crumples, on her knees on the floor, and shudders when Lily runs to her, then through her, and retches. Kitty rubs her back until the sickness passes, and wipes away her tears. Alison stares, anguished, at her little girl she's unable to comfort.

Eventually, she has no more tears, and her pain results in tension headaches that send her to a darkened room.

Lily doesn't know why her dad ignores her now, roaming from room to room and crying for no reason. She follows him, padding along in her little frog-patterned socks, and calls for him, over and over. Mary gathers her up, rocks her like she used to do to the little babes who'd find themselves tripping over each other in the village, when one of them had hurt themselves. But she can't soothe this with herbs and a spoonful of honey. Kitty tries to play with her, imaginary tea party games with Thomas and Robin, but she wants her mother to join in, and when she finally does, she wants to sit on her lap. And the whole cycle starts again.

One morning, Alison is gone. The door slams.

“GHOSTS!” roars Mike. They gather around him in the entrance hall, Mary with Lily on one hip. “If you're here, flicker the lights or get Julian to knock something over.”

A toy train, abandoned on the floor for weeks, moves three centimetres forward.

“Okay.” He lets his breath out in a whoosh. “We can't do this.”

The Captain motions to Mary, and she leaves, carrying Lily from the room.

“I can't live here, knowing-” Tears are falling again, but he doesn't bother wiping them away. He knows he's not speaking to an empty room, but it seems like he is. And they must have seen him cry before, anyway. “Knowing my baby is right there, and I can't reach her. And Alison – she can't see her, all the time, and know she's never going to get a life. Never hug her when she falls. Kiss her goodnight. It's tearing us apart.”

He buries his face in his hands, and sniffs hard. “I'm worried she'll... do something stupid.”

“Something stupid?” asks Kitty. Julian mimes a hanging, and she gasps.

“It's not her time yet, you know that.” He looks around, missing all their eyes. “We won't sell the house. I just – wanted to let you know. That we won't be here.”

He turns to go, and Robin frantically flickers the lights. He stops, thinks for a second, and pulls his laptop out from the bag at his feet. He opens it to a Word document. Julian types, painstakingly, what the Captain narrates.

_WE WILL LOOK AFTER HER._

Mike sobs. “Thank you.”

–

For all the change, the ghosts settle into a new routine. Lily needs actual looking after, in that she might not need feeding or washing, but she needs rest and love and mental stimulation. They take turns playing with her, and teaching her about the world. She learns, but she's still a child, and skills and knowledge disappear as fast as she picks them up. They don't mind teaching her the same thing over and over. Its no different to having the same conversations over and over.

People come and go from the house; the builders come back and shore up the worst bits, fix the plumbing and drainage. A few of the rooms are done up, and sometimes events are held there and on the lawn. No hotel thankfully, but they don't see Mike or Alison.

Lily stops crying for them. It seems she remembers the concept of a mother and father, but when she asks for them now she's easily distracted, content enough to settle down with the Captain for a story, or play and hide and seek behind Kitty's skirts.

–

“Hello?”

The voice is familiar, but weaker than it should be. They drift, one by one, towards the front of the house. They haven't bothered interacting with guests in years, just lived separate lives as removed as possible. Why try? No one has been able to see them like Alison could -

Alison.

She is old; hair almost white and skin wrinkled. Has it been that long?

“Mummy?”

She smiles, sadly. “Hi poppet. Hi everyone.”

“You're-”

“Old?”

“Back?” finishes Kitty.

She nods. “Yeah, I think so. Mike, he-” she pauses, but looks down at her daughter, clutching at Mary's apron, and steadies herself. “He passed, a week ago. Heart attack. I... probably don't have long, to be honest. Diabetes, high blood pressure, you name it.” She laughs wetly. “Is it – is this – okay?”

Fanny, standing a few steps up the staircase, walks down and pushes through the crowd. “A Button is always welcome here,” she says, with a decisive nod.

–

It could be weeks, it could be months. Time moves slowly for the dead and for the old. All they know is that one day, Thomas slides through her bedroom door to recite the morning's verse, and finds her body. Cold.

They missed it.

The Captain rounds them up, and they realise no one has seen Lily. They head en masse to wake her; no one wants to be the one to deliver the news, but it has to be done. They glide through the wall of her room, heads bowed, faces grave -

\- and find a little girl, nestled in the arms of her elderly mother.


End file.
